Personal Attacks
by TheOneKrafter
Summary: Immortality is sucky. Immortality when you've been shoved into another fictional reality, is worse. (SI-OC) (Drabbles)
1. Attempt 6

**_Prompt: Immortality_**

 **A series of Drabbles daily until the end of winter break. Each one can't be less than a thousand words, and I've got to use a prompt for each one.**

 **Warnings: Obvious mentions of suicide attempts are obvious.**

Slitting my wrists, unfortunately, did a whole lot of nothing except for bleed everywhere and leave two faint scars on the appendages.

I look down at the list in front of me and scribble out that idea, scanning the other options. Gun? Nothing but a killer headache. Jumping off a building? Joint aches for hours afterword while my body cracked everything back into place. Drowning was just terrifying and had me coughing up water. Hanging was just painful.

"Shit." I grumble to myself. I could try again, maybe get hit by a car, but it's become clear to me that hitting something hard only sucks.

Looking to the side, I glare at an open note also lays out on the table. Mocking me.

' _You're amusing, and I'm sending you somewhere with a few gifts. Don't worry about dying! Have fun._ '

I suppress the urge to tear the paper to tiny shreds and toss it into the waste disposal, _just_ so.

I've been thrown into a previously fictional world, with two folks calling me their daughter and not very well hidden folks who carry magic sticks.

I write down Avada Kedavra down, absent mindedly, as another option.

I'm also now a much smaller version of myself at that. _Eleven_. That's a downgrade from before I can assure you.

It's almost June. I don't really _want_ to see if a woman with a severe bun and emerald robes shows up at my new doorstep. I _really_ don't want to think about what I'll do if she doesn't.

I rub the uplifted skin on my right wrist with a scowl, thinking, attempting to figure out what to _do._

"Alana? Darling? Hurry down! It's time for supper!" A British woman named Martha yells, and I turn and peer at my closed bedroom door.

I'll figure it out. Probably.

 **-linebreak-**

I hold my breath while I walk, only feeling my chest burn while I idly want to scream. My brown hair is pulled up in a lazy bun at the back of my head while I scope out London, Martha's hand in my own while she chats about the wonderful ice cream place she _swears_ is somewhere near here.

She's not bad. Hell, she's _pleasant_ to be around and is a outright lovely woman.

She isn't my mom though. I worry for what might happen to her and Thomas should I be made a Deatheater target in a few years. It'd be hellish to convince the two of them to leave the U.K. for a year, maybe longer if a certain chosen one isn't up to standard.

I take a deep breath, hold it, exhale, and offer the woman a smile and nod at all the right moments. Might as well enjoy.

My eyes catch sight of a dingy looking pub that everyone else doesn't even glance at, and I memorize the street name.

 **-linebreak-**

Thomas Howard is a banker. He happily does math in a way that makes me mildly disgusted, but when he sees his wife and I, the sheer adoration makes up for it. Martha Howard is a preschool teacher. She is bursting with kindness and love that makes me worry about someone taking advantage of her benefit of the doubt mentality. But when she glances at the tiny scars that've showed up on my equally tiny wrists she pulls me up in a hug and rambles about this and that in such a comforting way.

I suppose you could do worse, when handed a different set of parents. I'll give whatever put me here that.

I don't appreciate Minerva McGonagall intruding upon the weird normalacy I've created, but whatever.

"You must be Miss. Howard. It's good to meet you, young lady," The professor says with a small smile, and I hold out a hand for her to shake. She takes it with mild surprise. Martha looks contemplative over having a real magic user in her living room. Thomas might be a step away from shock, though.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Professor. This is about the magic, right?" I ask, and McGonagall nods, already adapting to the maturity. "That is correct, young lady. You've experienced strange happenings then?"

I almost want to look at my wrists in deadpan, but I suppose that doesn't count as magic. Just bullshit.

"Indeed. Mum will have no problem telling you about how I once sneezed and made a plushy burst to flames when I was, like, eight?" I hum, looking over at Martha. She happily jumps in with more information, taking control of the conversation while I gently sit Thomas down on the couch. He's looking worryingly pale and I'd rather not see what he'd look like passed out. Or throwing up. He's a bit of a mess right now, muttering about '- _queen and country it's starting to make sense-_ '.

I pat his back gently from my seat next to him, and watch how Martha seems to be talking about my apparent mishaps with fires and tasteful blue hair. I file away that information for later. It's as much news to me as it is to the Professor.

Who knew mini-me was such a terror?

At some point McGonagall is pulling out a elegant wand and turning a lamp into a parrot. If Martha and Thomas had any suspicions they've definitely been disproven with actual, _real_ , magic being performed before their eyes. I just focus on the fact that the spell was done silently with just a flick of McGonagall's wrist.

The Professor hands Martha a letter made from parchment, and after opening and going over the contents together, they've picked a date and time to go and get supplies from Diagon Alley.

I'm worried, I can't die, and I want to go home.

Suppose you just have to deal, though.


	2. Sweets

**_Prompt- Treat_**

The pumpkin pasty is a bit underwhelming. Not that it isn't _good_ , I've just never had a taste for pumpkin or pastries. Cinnamon buns and cake are the only two exceptions.

"How're you liking the pasty, mum?" I ask Martha, looking up at the blonde woman. The woman hums to herself, before swallowing.

"I'm a bit fond. I do wonder if I'd be able to bring some of these sweets to my students," Martha says with that ever kind smile of hers, the words themselves thoughtful.

"I see no reason why not, Mrs. Howard. Though I would advise against informing anyone of where you purchased them," McGonagall says just a little ahead of us while we step through Diagon's morning crowd. The air is filled with smells, bright colors shoot about in magical flares or just on the robes some people are wearing, and the buildings look properly _old._ Really, if I were in the business of worrying, _which I am_ , I would comment on how unstable some of these buildings look. They should _not_ be slanted.

"Very good, Professor! Though I do hope I don't confuse some of these coins for eachother. Such a quaint conversion system, Tommy will be quite interested."

Said banker was keeping out of this experience, still wraping his head around the magic thing. Martha said the same thing happens when he finds out about any surprises and that there's no need to worry, though. I trust it, considering she's said he fainted when he was told she was pregnant.

I try not to think about how I'm _not_ their kid.

My hand goes to my wrist.

We get me fitted and I end up with several pairs of the hogwart's uniform, I mildly wonder how the potion ingredients don't all mold in that dank shop, Martha gets me any book I so much as look interested in, and-

Ollivander's is old. So old that when I step in, I can practically feel it in the air. Almost timeless. The bell at the door jingles lightly while I eye up the almost endless rows of boxes, the dust mites in the air, and the old dark wood that most of the store is made from.

Quiet shuffling sounds, and a old man with watery, _sharp_ , silver eyes comes into view behind the counter.

"Fir and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches, stiff," Ollivander says with a small, odd smile to McGonagall. "I'm glad to see you again, Minerva."

Weirdly enough, McGonagall smiles back. "And you as well, Gerrick. I'm afraid this isn't a social visit though."

"Are they ever? Never mind it my dear," The elderly man hums, before focusing his gaze on me. "Curious," Is all that he says before waving his wand. All sorts of measuring devices fly around me while Martha makes a small surprised sound, stepping more to the side.

"How do you like your tea?" He asks, nonsensically.

"Sweet," I reply, grinning just a smidge.

Ollivander's smile only widens a little before he shuffles away, murmuring about cores. One tape lightly settles itself around my right wrist, and another settles around the same hand's middle finger.

McGonagall and Martha talk about their students off to the side. Martha describing how she'd once witnessed a paint fight, and McGonagall about bewitched essays that spit ink everywhere.

God bless teachers man. God bless.

Ollivander comes shuffling back into view again with four boxes, before setting them down on his cluttered counter. Lifting one's lid he pulls out a yellowish brown colored wand with a curved handle.

"Give it a flick, if you will," The man says, handing it to me as the measuring instruments fly off into a corner.

It feels...

Like a stick of wood.

I flick it aiming away from anyone and a row of boxes falls to the floor. Before I can apologize the wand is out of my hand and Ollivander is muttering about it all being wrong. He waves a hand towards the boxes and they clean up themselves. Then without missing a beat he's gently setting the wand down and pulling out another. This one is darker in color and without any engravings or personalization. Just a straight lump of wood.

This one decides to aim opposite where I point and a firework goes off above our heads.

"Not dragon heartstring then, nor pheonix feather. Unicorn hair perhaps..?" Ollivander mutters, and another wand is in my hand before I can blink.

This one I feel... _something_. It's seemingly indifferent to me though, only sending out a few sputterings of white mist.

I test two more wands before he pins down what wood would probably be best, and three more before he can dissern the flexibility.

"Cherry, unicorn hair core, ten inches, very flexible," Ollivander says before the wand is gently placed in my hand.

Something warm trails from my hand and all throughout my body from the curved and engraved thing. It emminates warmth and glows lightly in... affection? Can a wand be affectionate?

Then again, I'm in what I thought was a book series, so I don't presume to understand much at all about the universe or reality.

"Wonderful. It is rare to see a cherry wood wand bond so easily," Ollivander remarks, eyeing the wand with that same odd smile.

I suppose the man is alright, a bit creepy, but I've met weirder.

Martha happily pays for the wand, and then attempts to convince me to buy a cat.

The shop's bell jingles on our way out.

 **-linebreak-**

I end up getting an owl for the sake of convenience, even if I think the cats in that pet shop are as cute as Martha says.

The sleepy thing is a barn owl who let me affectionately dub him Snuggles. Considering that he's making a habit of sleeping in my bed, that isn't a surprise. That also probably isn't sanitary.

He doesn't bring me dead stuff though, so score.

"Now my darling, remember we are but an owl away. Your mother and I have no doubt that you'll do well in your classes, but it would be nice to get updates," Thomas says beside me as I push my trolley along.

"I promise," I tell him without looking, anxiously tapping my fingers on the handle. It's still thirty till the train leaves and we haven't passed through the barrier, but I'm nervous.

One, mind readers. I'm not very excited for mind readers near enough to see that in very much not eleven, or Martha and Thomas's kid.

Even if I almost wish I was. My childhood would've been _so much easier_ if they'd been the ones raising me, but I'm still a grown ass adult who's replaced their kid.

Fuck whatever being put me here, man. I'm not even _British._

"Don't worry, Darling," Martha says at my other side. She lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder as we stop in front of the brick pillar between platform nine and ten. "I'm sure you'll do _wonderful_. You've been looking through your books since we got them."

Which I have, and the things are facinating. It's all new, raw, real. Real magic.

"Thanks, mum," I say before we charge headfirst into the pillar.

 **-linebreak-**

Hogwarts castle makes my hands shake at the sight of it. I nervously dip a hand into my pocket of sweets and down a chocolate frog.

" _This is exciting,_ " I mutter to myself with wide eyes, looking up at the ancient stone school.

"That's one way of thinking about it," A boy behind me says under his breath. I agree, I very much agree.

It takes a little, but we eventually land at a dock and hurry out. I ignore it when I spot bright ginger, and wild brown at the edges of my sight. I try not to jump when Hagrid knocks on the large doors in front of us, and I silently hold my breath and count to ten before we get pushed out into the great hall.

Unlike the memes, the candle wax from all of those candles disappears before it can hit anyone. The ceiling _really_ looks like the sky from outside, like there's no roof.

Almost all of the hall is looking at us, and I'm pretty sure it's because of a scrawny bespectacled boy towards the center of us. Not out of honest curiosity towards us munchkins.

I won't talk about the not so good singing skills of the hat. A definite A for effort though.

"When I call your name, please walk up to the stool and place the Sorting Hat upon your head," McGonagall says in front of us.

"Abbot, Hannah?"

And like that, one by one the eleven year olds walk up, set the hat on their head, and get hurried off to their table with clapping.

I personally am trying to not freak out, fingering my black robes with my eyes closed as I take deep, calm, breaths. It's not _scary_ , I just don't like lots of eyes on me. Though I suppose the same is true for most people.

"Howard, Alana."

Oh. That's my name. _Joy._

Walking out of the crowd of kids I keep my eyes on the worn hat and my back straight. It feels like five minutes when it's probably only one, but I end up sitting regardless and suddenly my vision is covered by the large hat.

' _So many thoughts- oh my,_ ' He says in my mind, and I bite my cheek.

' _Hey there. You're not going to say anything, right? It's not like I intended for- this,_ ' I mentally gesture to myself, if that's possible. He hums to himself, presumably flipping through my mind.

' _I won't. Though I must say, this Rowling woman seems to have done my job for me. You already know, don't you?_ ' The hat says, and I try not to nod in response.

' _Yeah. Though I'm not sure if I'd be able to answer all those riddles._ '

He chuckles lightly. ' _The Raven takes whatever makes sense, don't worry. I wish you luck, Miss. Howard. It'll be-'_

" **Ravenclaw**!" He shouts, and suddenly he's lifted from my head, making me blink at the bright hall.

There's clapping, and it's loudest from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I hop off the stool and hurry towards the table of eagles.

Once I'm settled next to the boy who's probably Terry Boot, I let out a deep sigh and wonder just how stressful this other world business will be.


	3. Grainy

**_Prompt- Sand_**

 **(It's technically the next day, and this is already done. Enjoy a quick update.)**

"-and once you've added the four measures of herbs, turn your hourglasses over. Do not, and I repeat, _do not_ , mix the potion until every last grain of sand has landed at the bottom, am I clear?" Professor Snape drawls from where he's writing on the chalkboard, before turning and peering down at us Ravens and Puffs.

He needs a better shampoo. Probably a natural one for oily scalps. If I had balls I'd send him some for Christmas.

No one says anything, but he nods anyways.

"Good. Begin."

I turn to my desk mate and lock eyes with her, noting her nervous grimace. Lisa Turpin is her name. She's one of five girls in our year to get into Ravenclaw, and she's a pureblood.

She also seems to be very pale. Though that might just be the residual fumes from potions.

"Right then." I state, before turning on the burner under my couldren, and she does the same. We're meant to wait until the water starts boiling before we start adding ingredients, but from the corner of my eye I watch one of the Hufflepuff start adding some.

I pray we don't face this Professor's wrath, _pray._

I eye the couldren carefully before peering at the instructions on the blackboard again. How does he have such _nice_ handwriting? I can't make heads or tails of these quils, let alone my scrawl with a normal pencil.

Once the couldren is bubbling I slowly drop each fang, one at a time, and wait a moment to quickly check the dried herbs I measured out. Once those get poured in, I quickly turn my hourglass over and scan what everyone else is doing.

A boy who's name escaped me is already stirring, looking increasingly more and more worried as the Professor sneers down at him. A girl with Ravenclaw blues is impatiently tapping her fingers while she stares at her hourglass and Lisa is frowning staring _directly down_ at her potion.

 _Did no one ever teach these kids Lab safety?_

Right. Professor Snape did while he glared down at them. Never mind.

I lightly tug her away from the boiling thing by the back of her robe.

"Waft, Turpin. You don't want that stuff hitting your face directly," I say quietly, patting her back.

She nods quickly. "Right, yeah, thanks Howard. I'm just nervous. Shouldn't it be turning dark blue? I might've added the fangs too early," Lisa rambles quietly to me. She fumbles with her robe as she gazes worriedly at the cauldron.

"It'll be fine. He's probably not expecting perfection on our first potion," I tell her with a smile. Lisa looks over at me and smiles back, then we get back to our potions.

As soon as the hourglass is comepletely done I start mixing the potion, adding Billywig Stings with my other hand slowly, patiently. I've always liked cooking, and if you can't be patient things never really come out right.

Once all of the stings are in I stop stirring and pick up the sprigs of Wolfsbane, then drop both in at once.

The potion goes from dark blue to a dark shade of purple and I turn off the burner.

Not too shabby for my first ever potion, if I do say so myself.

Avoiding the urge to absentmindedly rub at my wrist, I raise my hand to show that I'm done.

Professor Snape comes swooping over freaking _elegantly_ , with almost no effort. Unfair. So unfair, especially with that voice.

No, I'm not perving on my teacher. I can just appreciate people aesthetically, even if I'm not a fully grown person anymore...

Puberty. I'm going to go through puberty again. Think _happy_ thoughts.

"Yes, Ms. Howard, is it?" The man asks. Despite my hard earned habit to look people in the eye when I speak, I focus on the bridge of his nose instead.

"I've finished Professor," I say, putting my hand back down to rest on my lap.

"Is that so? I suppose I shall be the judge of that," Professor Snape says, looking away from me and peering at the potion.

"Directly on shade I see, though that can sometimes be misleading," He says, before waving a hand and causing my ladle to start pouring the potion into the flasks provided. "An E then. Let Ms. Howard's patience be a lesson to you all, and we shall hope some of you learn to add your ingredients _slower,_ " The Professor addresses the class, glaring at anyone who apparently did so, including Lisa.

The potion was probably worth an O, but he also indirectly praised me, so I'll take what I get.

 **-linebreak-**

The lake is pretty. Especially on sunny days when you've got a free period before lunch.

Twirling my wand in hand while I lightly tap my shoe on the dark sand I eye the lightly rippling waters in front of me.

"Oi, Howard, how do you spell ' _indiscernible_ '?" Lisa asks from where she's sitting behind me, scribbling out a essay for Herbology that's due in a week.

"Sound it out," I tell her, grinning a little at when she groans and does so.

"Cruel. You should've been in Slytherin," Lisa grumbles, and I laugh.

"Me? The person who saved you from potion fumes? So cruel of you assume the snakes wouldn't eat me alive," I say, turning around and sticking my wand up behind my ear like a pencil. The stick doesn't stop emanating warmth, so I assume it doesn't mind.

"I can't help it if Snape makes me loose sense, alright? I swear he made my heart stop the other day. Genuinely paused it," Lisa says with a sigh. Then she sets her essay to the side and stretches her arms above her head.

" _Professor_ Snape, Turpin. Wouldn't want to make a habit and say it in front of our dear potion's professor," Is all I respond with, rubbing my wrist and watching a few Slytherin second years walk past.

I don't have to look to see the girl's pretty face scrunch up in a grimace.

"It's almost lunch time, isn't it? We should probably start heading back to the castle," I tell Lisa turning to look at her. She nods.

"Yeah, lemme just grab my stuff..." Lisa says, turning and starting to pack her stuff back into her bag.

I keep an eye on the students milling about around us in the corner of my eye, and tense a little when I see some Gryffindors and that group of second year snakes start sizing eachother up.

"What are you looking at?" One of the snakes call, and one of the lions stands up, arms crossed over his chest.

"Just some slimy snakes. You got a problem?" Another lion calls. I stepping from foot to foot, turning to look at Lisa taking her time spelling her essay dry and rolling it up gently.

"Very creative. Even if I had one, I doubt you would be observant enough to see it," The same snake calls, running his fingers through his dark hair. Now _all_ in that group of Gryffindors are standing, wands out.

" _Lisa_ ," I hiss, kicking her foot.

"I'm hearing it too, just a second," The girl says, quickly clasping her bag shut and throwing it over her shoulder.

"Those are fighting words, Erl," The lead Gryffindor says, holding his wand at his side. The lead snake, _Erl_ , only smirks.

"So you _are_ observant. Color me surprised, considering your pedigree-"

The bright jinx bounces off of Erl's protego, and I duck quickly to avoid getting hit myself.

"Let's go, _let's go-!"_ I whisper yell at Lisa, grabbing her elbow and pulling out my own wand just in case.

" _Merlin_ , Thrasher, you almost hit one of the little eagles with that. Watch yourself," Erl says almost teasingly and then it turns into an all out magic brawl.

On our way out of the field of fire we spot a Hufflepull prefect and quickly tell her about the fight going on.

"Ah _shiii_ -crap. Head up to lunch little claws. Reginald! Snakes and Lions fighting again!" She tells us, before shouting at a nearby Slytherin with a similar badge pinned to his chest.

"Merlin. How often does this happen?" Lisa mutters at my side, and I let out a gruff "Probably often," before we make it to the Great Hall.

This shit is probably why so many people found the house system harmful when this wasn't a real place.

 **-linebreak-**

The first main student character I interact with ends up being two characters.

Fred and George Weasley.

The two of them are gleefully holding a first year in Slytherin upside down, and for all the love I have for them and the tears I shed for Fred Weasley, I end up _pissed_.

"What in the bloody hell are you two doing?!" I shout, glaring up at the two Gryffindors. "Put him down!"

"My Gred, a firsty is here to rescue a snake."

"Seems so, Forge."

I point my wand threateningly at the two of them, mildly wondering if my wand should be this excited to try out the stinging jinx, but standing strong none-the-less.

"Our fun is done then, I suppose-"

"-we'll just have to put him down."

Then, they just _drop him mid-air._

They're on my shit list.

Taking a running dive, I catch the brown haired boy and keep him from falling on his head. He groans, disoriented from all his blood rushing to his head and then falling.

"I'm telling your Prefect Weasley about this you menaces," I hiss at the two of them, glaring fiercely. Bullying is bad, and though I've never been a victim, I've known people who got messed up by it. It ain't okay.

"Gred! It looks like this little eagle has claws!"

"Looks like she does, Forge. We'd better make a hasty retreat."

The two of them walk away chuckling and I _try_ not to throw anything at them.

"You alright there?" I ask the boy in front of me, frowning at how he looks a little green. Nauseous and flushed.

"I'm- I'm fine," He says. His eyes are squeezed shut while he takes deep breaths.

"They didn't do anything other than hanging you upside down, right? Do you need to go to the infirmary?" I ask gently still scowling.

"No. Just the floating," He says with a small groan.

Well, I'd say good, but it's still not good.

"Well. Not a great time for introductions, but I'm Alana Howard," I introduce.

"Edmund Quincy. Thank you for that."

"No problem, Quincy," I murmur, putting my wand back behind my ear and sighing.


	4. Tears

**_Prompt- Salt_**

 **OddlyParanoid: Ima level with you, there probably won't be much gorey stuff described in detail. No hate on other folks' cup of tea, but it isn't really mine. Glad that you're enjoying though, and there will probably be a regenerative scene in a bit more detail, just not in a... gross way? That's probably the word I'm looking for.**

 **Imperial Dragon: Your reviews are always so nice~! Thank you!**

Erl peers down at me with sharp grey eyes, and a _dangerously_ contemplative look.

"You're the little eagle who almost got hit the other day, aren't you?" He asks, but his tone tells me that he already knows. "You're good at ducking, I'll give you that much."

It's almost curfew, why am I out of my common room again?

Right. I wanted to make sure Quincy got to the dungeons alright.

Ugh. Stupid niceness.

I nod silently at him, not liking this kid's stare. He could only be a third year at most, why's he so serious? I feel like this guy could mentally destroy me. Wait, is this what my friends meant when they said that about me?

Not pleasant.

"What? No words for a snake?" He says, leaning down a little and tilting his head just so.

"Don't tell me you're _intimidated_. I save my venom for bigger prey, bird. Now hurry along to your tower. Not many of my kind are of the same thinking," Erl says, straightening and making a shooing motion with his hand.

I happily make my escape, getting back to the commonroom just before curfew.

Slytherin are fucking weird, man.

 **-linebreak-**

I do end up telling Percy about his brothers, and he takes _fifty points_ from Gryffindor on the freaking spot. I'm not present for the fight he and the twins get in, but from what I hear, it was big, and someone was crying afterwards. Who it was is quite tight lipped though, and I'm willing to bet it wasn't Percy.

Besides that, I mostly affect nothing in the plot. I've never shared small talk with the golden trio let alone plotted with them. The fact that almost all of the main cast are Gryffindors probably has something to do with that.

' _I've got good grades in all of my classes. It's mostly because it's all so interesting, with the exception of History of Magic. I mostly just read the textbook instead of pay attention to the droning ghost who teaches it._ ' I write, cozied up on one of the recliners in the common room.

You would think the swot house would be a lot less comfy, but there's always a pleasant breeze with fresh air, and almost all of the furniture is good for relaxing. The whole common room has bookshelves lining the walls, fillled with books students themselves have left for everyone else to use. Some of the seventh years swear by study journals filled with notes, and I'm half convinced you could find a book on the topic of _anything_ , so long as someone else thought to leave it.

It's lovely. Absolutely lovely. Dorm rooms being more like tiny apartments for two only makes it better. My dorm has an _actual_ mini fridge magicked to shit to actually work. Lisa highly approves, as she _is_ my roommate and soda automatically finds it's way in there. Bless whoever went through the time to enchant it.

Gryffindor can eat their hearts out, Ravenclaw rocks.

Snuggles makes a content noise from where he's leaning on my hair, and I reach up to pet his feathers a little.

 _So comfy_. I need to send Snuggles off with my letter though...

I scratch my neck a little, then sigh.

"Come'er Snugs. Martha and Thomas are expecting an update," I murmur to the owl, lightly pushing him until he slides like a lump onto my lap. Grabbing my letter I push the parchment into a envelope that I already wrote everything on. Once it's sealed I settle it into Snuggles's talons while he hoots at me, annoyed.

"Don't be like that, Martha spoils you," I tell the owl, lightly petting under his chin before he takes off in a huff.

So dramatic. I love him.

"I still can't believe it though! If McGonagall can put one of her firsties on Gryffindor's Quidditch, than what's the point of the rule in the first place! I should petition to include our first years in the tryouts this year," The captain of Ravenclaw's Quidditch team gripes as she comes through the door, drawing attention to her.

"Wot? McGonagall can't put first years on the Quidditch team, it's dangerous!" Another claw says by a window, looking up from his book.

Guess that part of the plot 's happened. It is mid September, the... 16th I believe? Dates are hard. I've got a month and a half till I have to deal with the troll thing, or rather, not deal with. My getting involved might get the munchkins hurt and I don't want to interfere with Potter Luck.

"Well, the headmaster isn't going to do anything about it. He's been waiting to have the lions one up the snakes," Another teen says from across the room.

I agree, the old man is biased to hell.

 **-linebreak-**

I am not a Harry Potter super fan, and I cannot be blamed for forgetting certain details.

After I use the restroom, one that smells weirdly like salt, I feel something ghostly start dropping on my head. Looking up quickly, I make eye contact with a little bespectacled girl with tears falling down her face.

A _ghostly_ little girl. Instead of being scared, I'm just... _sad_.

"Hello there," I say, watching who must be Moaning Myrtle narrow her eyes at me.

"Why are you in my bathroom?" The girl says, swooping down and getting close to my face. My eyes catch the raven crest on her chest.

"Just using it is all. Sorry to bother you, I didn't know you didn't want any visitors," I reply, mildly wondering if she'd feel it if I try to hug her. She's a _kid_ for Christ sake, she shouldn't be left alone to wallow in a dirty old girl's bathroom.

She huffs at me, moving back a little. "I couldn't care less. Just don't be annoying." She says, before flying through me and into one of the stalls, down the privy.

I stare at the toilet for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in worry, before shaking my head and walking out the door. Could've sworn she hated anyone coming in her domain, and I lightly rub at my wrist.


	5. Ain't the Ninties without Butterflyclips

**_Prompt- Clip_**

 **(Double update, since this chapter is kinda better as just this.)**

Halloween continues to get closer and closer, and while I do love a good feast, my classes with Gryffindor make me progressively more nervous. Hermione is a bit of a know it all, as expected, but everyone keeps getting colder and colder towards her. With the exception of most of the Ravenclaws, and Harry Potter himself.

"Alana, can you help me with this clip? It's being stubborn," Lisa says from the little bathroom in our dorm and I toss my hairbrush onto my bed. Our bedroom has two desks set up right next to eachother, and our beds next to those. On my wall I've started pinning up drawings, and Lisa's started making a collage of all the Os she's getting, the dork.

Stepping into the bathroom, I take in her state.

Her wavy, light brown hair is almost always a mess in the morning, and a cosmetology spell her mom taught her usually fixes it.

It's not so, today.

Taking the cute butterfly clip from one hand and her brush from the other, I go to the faucet and get a little water on the brush. Magic, always stunting problem solving skills.

Turning back to her, I quickly brush through her hair a few times before finally adding the clip.

"There. When in doubt, warm water will usually do the trick," I tell her with a smile, and she grins back.

"I bow to your muggle wisdom, oh great one," She snarks and I roll my eyes at her.

"Then bow, m' dear."

I duck away from the playful smack Lisa sends my way, grinning too.


	6. Grains- as in the Plants

_**Prompt- Bread**_

Generally, if you aren't a Hufflepuff or Slytherin, you are not really _welcome_ in the dungeons. It might be because the Slytherin don't want people starting shit on their home turf, or because the Hufflepuffs need alone time to slowly make the Slytherins warm up to people, _who knows._ It's just how it is.

That being said, I am on a mission.

People are milling about, mostly Puffs, but a few folks from other houses are mixed in. There's warmth radiating from Hufflepuff's open commonroom door despite the dank cold of the dungeon, and down a nearby corridor...

Lifting up a hand I poke the painted pear in front of me. Childish giggles echo around the hall, and suddenly the painting swings inward.

Little humanoids are walking about, with their floppy ears bouncing at each step and their large eyes widening when they catch sight of me. All of the elves are covered with good quality curtains or fabric that drape over them like toga.

"Uh, 'ello," I say, stepping inside and wincing a little when the painting slams shut behind me.

"Good afternoon little missus!" One says. "What is you doing in the kitchens?"

"I just wanted to find it. I'm kinda hungry too-"

And just like that, suddenly I'm being rushed to a table and handed plates of food while the house elves cluck at me and say I need to eat more.

The first elf I spoke to puts toast in my mouth. "Missus has nothing to worry about! Wes house elves are happy to feed yous! You is too skinny!"

I blink a couple times and bite the toast, grabbing the rest and holding it in my hand.

"Thank you?" I say after swallowing, and suddenly a few of them are _crying._

 _"Oh, crap._ It's okay! You don't need to cry!"

 **-linebreak-**

Halloween, All Hallows', The Day I Get Free Candy, call it whatever, but it's here.

Someone smacks the hand I'm rubbing my wrist with.

"Merlin, _calm down_. Your nerves are giving _me_ nerves," Lisa hisses at me while Proffessor Snape talks down Terry Boot the row over.

I glance at my bubbling potion, still not pink.

"Sorry. I've just had a bad feeling all day," I whisper back, pulling up my sleeve to cover my wrist. Stupid habits. Stupid little scar. Ugh. I shouldn't have cut so deep when I cut it, it's just annoying now.

"We get a feast later, how can you have a bad feeling? Think of the food-!" Lisa says, before getting cut off by the sound of an explosion.

" _BONES_! Did I not say to add the feathers, _last?_ " Professor Snape shouts, and immediately flinch and shrink down in my seat. That man is _scary_ , even if he isn't yelling at me. "Ten points from Hufflepuff for idiocy, and you will clean couldrens for a week."

In his defense, he does repeat things when they're important, and in her defense, she really isn't good at potions.

I glance at my potion, it's turned pink.

Turning off the burner I share a glance with Lisa.

' _Let's not bring his attention on us._ '

Professor Snape is not very forgiving after someone makes a big mistake, and we've got double potions today. Joy.

"Turpin, name a potion involving Hypogryff* claws," Said teacher says behind us, and I try really hard not to jump.

 _You're a adult, man up._

"Uh- that'd be- Potion of Strength?" Lisa says next to me, craning her neck to look up at Snape.

"Are you sure?" The professor asks.

Lisa makes a face that shows _now_ she isn't, but nods anyways.

"Lucky guess. Tell me Howard, why is it you are staring when your potion requires bottling?" Professor Snape asks, suddenly making eye contact with me.

' _Oof, shit, okay. Ima just do that now._ '

"No reason at all Professor, apologies," I say, quickly looking away and getting right on that.

Here's to hoping all he got was surface thoughts, though I really don't think he'd be rummaging through the brain of a eleven-year-old Ravenclaw.

I still get a E for my potion though.

 **-linebreak-**

Technically, there isn't a rule that requires people to only sit at their house table for meals, unless it's a feast. Everyone is just so used to distancing themselves from other houses that they never do it. Which is kind of an issue considering that mentality puts a majority of Slytherin against the rest of us.

But I digress.

The feast starts out nicely. The food is wonderful and thanks to my asking the house elves, I get to enjoy wonderful cinnamon rolls during the main meal. They count as normal food, I swear.

"Boot, _slow down_ ," One of the upper years tells Terry, making a face at his _thurough_ enjoying of the sweets.

"'Is so _good_ tho'," Terry says with his mouth full, and Su Li laughs.

"Close your mouth!" Rodger Malone says from next to him, smacking his shoulder before delicately taking a sip of his tea.

I grin to myself and Lisa leans against me to try and poke Su's face.

 _SLAM!_

Everyone turns to look at the doors to the great hall, and the hall is suddenly dead silent in shock.

" _TROLL IN THE DUNGEON_!"

A pause.

"I thought you 'aught to know."

 _Thump._

Are we sure this man is a Ravenclaw?

 **-linebreak-**

"Out of the way, mudblood."

I freeze, genuinely shocked when a certain blonde haired boy shoves me out of the way.

How in the hell does he even know I'm muggleborn? I don't exactly hide it, but it's not like I'm waving a sign around.

"The hell did you just say, Malfoy?!" Lisa shouts next to me, stepping in front of me and facing the kid.

Oh shit, that's like calling someone the N word, ain't it? Should I be offended? I mean, I'm a grown woman. I don't really _care_ what a kid with a spoon in his mouth thinks of me.

Lisa, however, doesn't know that. She's drawn her wand.

Is this going to affect canon?

"Mudblood, as I should. I have no need to address my lessers with anything else, _third generation._ I would watch myself if I were you," Draco says like we're simple. His own wand is drawn and Crabb and Goyle are standing strong by his sides.

Should I... do something about this?

Lisa looks like she's capital P'ed off. Apparently you can only be 'classified' as a pureblood if you've got three generations of them up your line, and Lisa is one such. Her uncle married a muggleborn though, I think? So she doesn't really care for the name-calling.

Oh, and I'm her mate. That probably has something to do with her unhappiness.

"I will jinx you if you don't apologize, Malfoy. You can't go around calling people that," Lisa says, gesturing with her wand threateningly.

"Oh really? _Inflatu-_ "

A hand pushes Draco's wand down before he can finish.

"Crude language is not befitting of Slytherin house, Malfoy. You realize our head of house's stance on that word, _correct?_ " A bored, familiar voice states.

Draco's cheeks visibly heat up, and he turns his glare on Erl.

Before he can retort, Erl starts talking again anyways.

"Of course you do, I doubt Heir Malfoy would make such a silly mistake," Erl says with a graceful wave of hand. He waits a moment. "Well? Do tell the baby eagles you apologize." An elagent raise of brow.

Slytherin are fucking _savage-_ and weird, but that's just another term to pin on in a growing list.

" _I apologize_ ," Draco Malfoy says through half gritted teeth, glaring at me.

"Good firstie. You wouldn't want to disappoint your _parvus potesta*_ now would you?" Erl asks with a half smile. "Shoo."

I'm blinking quickly at the familiar term, one from a fanfic I read a while ago, before _this_ mess. Does that mean I'm in a fanon-canon mesh up? Oh god, _oh god_ \- chill. Fanon is almost always close to canon, my knowledge is still relevant.

The corridor echoes with Draco Malfoy and company's footsteps, and carries on still after they turn the corner.

Lisa slowly lowers her wand, but her eyes are trained on Erl, suspicious.

"Young snakes sometimes bare fangs for no good reason," The third-year _parvus_ hums to himself poetically, watching the end of the hall for only a moment before training his eyes on us.

"Thought you didn't like my kind of 'pedigree'?" I ask. There's no hostility, only curiosity. I can't really blame either party fully for that fight Lisa and I saw, both were provokadive, and insults are insults. I called my sisters assholes sometimes, it didn't mean I didn't _like_ them.

He focuses me, and tilts his head like he did before.

"Gryffindor are easily riled up with a few choice jabs. A hatchling like yourself _obviously_ cannot help your parentage, any personal feelings aside," Erl says.

I wonder who he reminds me of? Black hair, grey eyes...

I resist the urge to frown at the image of a young actor playing Tom Riddle. Press x to doubt this kid has any relation to the dark lord.

"Uh huh," Lisa says by my side before grabbing my hand and starting to tug me along. "Thank you, but we really must be getting to our commonroom." The light haired girl says, pulling me away from that interaction. Erl only hums in response behind us, and from the footsteps going away from us, I assume he's done too.

A full school of adolescents, yet I continue to run into that Slytherin. Odd.

 **-linebreak-**

 *** So basically it's like a internal Slytherin position of power. You can be _parvus_ _potesta_ for the younger years and _magnus potesta_ for upper years. _Magnus_ is the big guy in charge, but mostly they both take care of 1-3 year and 4-7 year affairs individually. **

**This comes from a fic called ' _Rose Petal Red_ ' on Ao3, by NonchalantxFish. Lots of Slytherin politics in that one, I highly suggest you go read it if you're looking for a long SI for Harry Potter.**

 **I dunno why I did this, Erl just seems like he'd do that. ( _Also, Erl is a last name if you're confused._ )**


	7. Blood and Water

**_Prompt- Race_**

I'm not quite sure about the biological differences between non-magical folk and us fire starters, but the general consensus in the fandom was/is that it's all in the genes and which chromosomes you inherited. Like how my family has a dominant gene for brown eyes, but I got the the resessive green eyes.

In my opinion, save some cultural differences, that's the only thing that makes us humans so different.

So, _biologically_ speaking, a ' _ **mudblood** ' _and a ' _pureblood_ ' are completely the same. With the exception of what the sheer amount of incest that that part of the community is doing.

That conclusion requires a very basic knowledge of biology and logical reasoning to come to. Which is why I'm not surprised purebloods keep marrying their _fucking_ cousins, and keep looking down on people who are actually adding to the gene pool. I try not to get mad because that's how they're raised. I try, _very_ , hard.

My oh-so small fingers run through my brown hair a few times before I look back down at my transfiguration essay.

 _Mudblood._

It doesn't bother me. Not a word, it doesn't bother me just as much as saying Voldemort doesn't. If I'm being honest, being called emo by my mom was more annoying than a childish jeer.

The intent behind it? The intent is everything.

The genuine belief that others are less. The wish for harm. The _distaste._

I'm not black. I may be quarter Filipino, but I'm the whitest looking one in my immediate family. I could not comprehend what shit people might get just because of the color of their skin.

I'm not from a oppressive family. My parents, _the ones who raised me_ , could not give a damn about my liking girls as much as I like boys.

This though, this is probably the closest I've gotten to racism or homophobia. Disliking or hating a person for a trait they can't control.

Dropping my slowly dripping quil back down into it's holder with a huff, I lean back dangerously in my chair while I stretch. Lisa's off at the first Quidditch game of the year, probably shouting from Ravenclaw's warmed seats. While _I'm_ stewing in our dorm trying to think.

 _Trying and trying, it's all I ever seem to do._

Letting my chair settle on the ground with a sound _clack_ , I look back down at what I was writing. Something something, theory of elements and conversion between them, blah, leading to the goblet from living rat, etc give me an O.

Clearly, my brain is not amused with this work. Duly noted.

How does one keep a society from imploding due to it's prejudices? Should I start marching and boycotting? Fancy badges? Leave everyone else to deal with it and move back to the US?

Questions and answers. Uncertain and unseen by mortal eyes.

Then again, do I count as _mortal_? I'm still aging, but what if I stop? What if I get outed by someone and get tugged around as a human meat shield?!

This train of thought removes itself from my original line of thinking. Right. Racist folks caring about my blood enough to spill it.

I'd say it's a good thing they can't kill me, but some things are worse than death.

I stand up from my suddenly unappealing seat. I push my chair back in and start pacing up and down the dark wooden floor beneath my feet, as the pretty painting of a quiet dock and fisherman on the wall seems to silently judge me.

"Quiet Robby. Exercise is good for your health," I grumble at it, and the tiny fisherman only shakes his capped head at me and casts out another line.

Next year there will be a _very_ large snake in the castle on the hunt for yummy students and anyone else in the way. People _will_ be in genuine danger and it'll take our very own scrawny main character to save the day and stab a horcrux. Yay, safe until summer. Then there'll be the dementors. Then the death cup, the _toad_ , and old Dumbles dies.

Then there'll be war. Cold, deadly, war with magical and muggle casualties. Muggleborn and their families will be hunted like _dogs_ and I do happen to be one of them. I don't know Thomas and Martha that well, but I would _never_ wish them death just because I bodysnatched their body-double kid.

Everyone around here needs to just sit the fuck down and watch freedom writers together, maybe read Diary of Anne Frank, _something._

Making an agitated noise I soundly kick the couch next to me, satisfied when there's a cracking sound in response. _It'll be fine_ , the house elves come through all the rooms one a month and have a cleaning spree. That includes fixing all the shit us humans break.

Poor dears, at least they enjoy doing this stuff.

I roll my ankle slowly, trying to ease it's ache from my little show of destruction. I'm fucking twenty-seven, I can handle some stress _healthily._ Then again, I don't really have a therapist anymore to deal with all the shit I keep bottling. God forbid I start doing that all the time again.

I don't know what I'm going to do. Winging it has worked so far, but I need a plan. One that actually works and I follow through with.

This is why I'm not a Slytherin. This cunning plan-y shit is my sister's thing, I just like my books are my thing. It seems that might be a bit of a problem now though, damnit. Stupid reading fanatic, you've ruined yourself Alana.

First, try not to mess with the plot so much that it isn't recognizable anymore. I'm not clairvoyant, and I don't want to not see what to do in case I have to intervene.

Second, don't fall for any of these characters. A majority are way too young anyways, but that shit complicates things more than I have patience for.

Third, keep the people close to me safe and alive.

Fourth, figure out who the _fuck_ decided to give me the scariest, least good power I have ever known. Immortality is _terrible_. Not knowing if you'll very be able to leave this existence is not what humans are built for. Inevitably needs to stay that way.

Right. That's only four things! This can't be so hard.

Right? Right.


	8. Sunrise

**_Prompt- Sunrise_**

 **It's been awhile? Cleaned up all the previous chapters, so no more gross mistakes. I'll be hoping for daily updates till the end of July. We'll see how much farther we get. yEET.**

 **Thank you to anyone who has favorited and/or followed. I know it's been mostly boring so far, but I'm hoping for some more interesting stuff to come up? Maybe? First year is just kind of boring. If you'd like me to pick up the pace with first year feel free to tell me in reviews. Now, on with the chapter.**

Time, as it is, is ever fleeting.

That is to say, our time is ever fleeting on this earth. Every breath is another closer to our last and another closer to the end of all ends and beginnings.

I take a deep breath, staring out at the rising sun from one of Ravenclaw tower's balconies.

It's odd, feeling so at ease so far above the ground. Once my legs would've shook and I'd have stayed far back away from the edge. A fear of heights, a fear of falling.

My time suddenly... isn't fleeting. It's seemingly endless until whatever being that plucked me away from my old life lets me leave. The only thing left of that to fear is pain and consequences.

What would've happened if I'd been placed in magical Britain before Tommy boy made a horcrux? What if I'd been there before Dumbles had been in school? Would I have made it?

Oranges and reds and purples mix in the sky with clouds, and somewhere behind me sleeping students in the common room grumble and start packing up their books, but I keep my eyes on the horizon.

Guess I should get moving. Man it's cold up here. Turning on my heel I walk inside the tower humming.

 **-linebreak-**

"I still can't believe a first year won the game yesterday," Terry says through his porridge. Rodger shoves a napkin in the boy's face without looking up from his book, making Terry sputter. Lisa rolls her eyes. "I'm more interested in how Snape's robes were set on fire! I'd say it was the Weasley twins, but they've been pretty tame lately."

"It definitely wasn't them, Lisa, they were playing," Terry shoots back. Lisa flushes, but crosses her arms. "So? They don't need to be present to make it happen, Boot. They're sneaky."

I watch on, enjoying my second cinnamon bun. Praise the cinnabun gods, or whatever.

"I wonder how unhappy Professor will be during class," Su Li says, and there's a collective wince. No double period, at least, but I wouldn't bet on him being in his more generous moods today.

I'm not worried, I'm lucky enough to be good at potions. Hufflepuff and some of the others? Not so lucky.

 **-linebreak-**

Well, I earned Ravenclaw ten points, but that's only because Hufflepuff had two coaldrens blow and three kids in the infirmary with warts. Not painful ones, just… really big warts.

Yikes. At least I finally got an O! Only because my wiggenweld potion is what's saving the kid who sprained their wrist. Did I mention potions was bad today?

"I don't know how you're doing it, but I'm just going to live vicariously through you," Lisa grumbles. She's scraping by with As and the occasional E in potions, my winning a O finally is some sort of turning point I guess. Su Li says Professor Snape only gives those to people who've proven they reach his high standards.

Yay? I'm doing better than Hermione. I heard that she can't crawl past Es and it's making her crazy. That girl is an inspiration though, she's practically holding Gryffindor up when it comes to the house cup, single handedly. There's a bet going on on how she managed to keep out of our house.

There's major money on blood magic. Who said swots don't have a sense of humor?

I shiver in the November air, tightening my scarf and gripping my outer robes closer to myself. I need to convince one of the upper years to cast a warming charm on my robes. I'm becoming a popsicle and it isn't even December yet.

Us first year eagles are huddled on our way to Transfiguration, and Lisa is telling me all about how one boy was crying last week because he couldn't revert his cat from a goblet. A Hufflepuff apparently, but she couldn't get a name out of anyone.

"Oh boy, it's _Heir Malfoy_ ," Lisa murmurs in my ear as we step back indoors from the courtyard. I let out a small laugh behind my mouth and spot the blonde heading in the same direction.

Around him are the first year Slytherin, including Edmund Quincy. They haven't spotted us, being farther down the hall, but I make a note to not look like I know Quincy. I don't think it'd be good for people to know about him knowing me, specifically his housemates.

I'm happy he's alright though.

"It was Malfoy who called Alana a mudblood, wasn't it?" Padma asks from beside Su, eyes narrowed. Morag, though a usually quiet girl, tilts her head and is suddenly interested in the conversation.

"Want me to jinx him, Alana?" Anthony Goldstein says towards the back of the group, waving his wand. I frown.

"Nah. He's not worth it. If he messes with us I say we jinx his hair, though," I say, raising my arms above my head and stretching. Anthony shrugs. Padma grins.

"My Mum taught me a color changing charm for hair, I'd be happy to use it," Padma states. I smile back.

We pass the slower group with little issue, and enter class.

"Take your seats everyone. Today we will be beginning our practical work on the Avifors spell, so please take out your previous notes. No dallying," Professor McGonagall says from the board, hands clasped behind her back.

The Avifors spell is the practice of turning just about any small object into a bird. I heard a couple Puffs talking about how difficult it is the day before yesterday after McGonagall's class, and I am not looking forward to that.

Lisa looks like she's been given a wonderful challenge though, so I carefully do not voice my concerns. Lisa is good at Transfiguration, easily earning points every class good. Let's see how fast she manages this one.

Once everyone is seated and class has officially begun, everyone has a teacup in front of them. That, and the instructions of how exactly we're meant to do this. A sideways eight and specific pronunciation of Avifors. Easy enough.

I look carefully at the cup and imagine the blue colored bird I'm intending to make. It looks more like a blue jay than I think Professor wants it to actually look like, but here's to hoping.

It takes Lisa thirty minutes to go from egg to bird. I myself get the bird a couple minutes before class ends, but whatever gets the job done. Vivid imagination helps casting spells. That and figuring out how your magic is meant to twist to get the results you want. I can't actually feel my magic, but I think that's part of it?

Hell if I know. The point is that I got the dang bird to show, and half the class didn't. Which is fine! I'm just happy that Lisa is satisfied. Transfiguration helps her mood after Potions.

Now for lunch, then Charms. With Gryffindor. _Joy_.

 **-linebreak-**

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley are practically inseparable after The Troll Incident. All the first years who pay half attention to gossip know it and maybe a couple of the second years too. They're settled next to each other and on the first row when Lisa and I walk in.

All hail the chosen one with slightly bent glasses and a bit too baggy robes. He's in a quiet conversation with Ron and Hermione, a small smile on his face.

Lisa sets us up on the row behind them, and despite my probably constipated looking face I don't stop her. It's not like you can catch Potter Luck! I need to quit acting my age and act my age, damnit.

Morag sits on my other side by the time class is beginning, murmuring a quiet greeting that I return with a smile. Her accent is very thick Scottish, her hair is dark and wavy, and she's tall for her age.

We're doing group work today, a worksheet on charms and it's vocabulary. It's filler work, our head of house had to leave last minute yesterday for something involving a dueling tournament. It shows on his face that he's been gone till late last night. Definitely isn't in the mood for lecturing.

Right now he's settled on his desk going through essays halfheartedly. Poor guy.

"Honestly Ronald, he went over this last week," Hermione chastises the boy to her left in front of us, pointing at one of the questions in emphasis. Ron huffs at her. "How am I supposed to remember that, Hermione? Look how many letters are in it!"

"He has a point, Hermione," Harry says, nervously adjusting his glasses.

"Boys. Ugh, hand my your papers. I need to check them."

Well, that's interesting.

Lisa frowns beside me.

"Wonder why she hangs around them if they're so dumb," She says. She looks away from the fact checking Gryffindor and back down at her own paper.

I shrug. "Friends are friends. Haven't a clue why I keep you around, you never appreciate my muggle wisdom."

"Psh. Take me to one of those movie things and then I'll appreciate your ' _muggle wisdom_ '. Now help me with number twelve, we covered it at the beginning of term," Lisa says with a grin. I roll my eyes.

"Fine fine. You need anything Morag?" I turn to the other girl who's- already done. And napping. Never mind.

Well, I've survived another class in the presence of main characters. Yay.


	9. Good Company

**_Prompt- Company_**

 ** _Darkness is complete:_ I'm happy it's not too slow! I was reading through yesterday and anxiously wondering if it wasn't interesting enough. **

**_legendaryNOT:_ Yes? Just not right now. There's no real reason for her to mess with them much right now, since they're all Gryffindor, Slytherin, or not in her year. I can promise Luna interaction next year of course, maybe more interacting in general. **

**Thank you for reviewing! Now for the chapter.**

Thanksgiving passes and is noticed by no one but me.

It's weird how normal things for you aren't so normal to others, normal traditions you don't even think twice about. I'm not particularly attached to Thanksgiving. Not in a religious way or otherwise.

But it makes me miss my family. The one I grew up with. My youngest sister was almost done with Law school last I saw her.

Anyways. December.

"Come on Davies, it's just more practice," I say. Roger Davies looks almost convinced by that, but shakes his head.

"I've got Owls to study for, firstie. Go bother someone else," He says with a frown. I huff a little, but walk away as instructed. That's the third upperclassman I've asked today and still no dice.

I flop down on the couch Lisa is settled on and startle her into looking up from her book.

"He turn you down too?" She asks, smirking. I stick my tongue out at her and sigh.

"I don't get it! It's just some more practice with the spell, and you get to help out an adorable lil' firstie. It's a win-win situation," I grumble to her. Her smirk widens. "Adorable? Where?"

It hit her arm with the back of my hand, pouting. I'm a cute kid!

"Anyways, my mum wanted to know if you're staying for Christmas. Says she won't let me stay if you aren't," Lisa informs me, shutting her book and throwing her legs over my own.

Wait, what?

"You tell your mum about me?" I ask, and my face must look funny because she honest to god snorts.

"Of course I do, you're my best friend. Now you'd better be staying because Granny Lilith is visiting and I do not want to be around her. She always calls me by my mum's name and then smirks when I correct her. She does it on purpose, I swear!" Lisa tells me, waving her arms in emphasis. I blink at her.

"Yeah I suppose I can stay. I'll have to check with my parents, but they'll probably be fine with it," I say. She grins widely. "Great! I convinced a fourth year to teach me the snow flinging spell and I intend on pelting Terry."

"Terry, huh? Why's he staying behind?" I ask. Lisa sets her book down on the coffee table in front of us. It's actually a copy of The Lord of the Rings, I lent it to her when she voiced some curiosity on 'muggle literature'. She's had her nose in it the past three days.

"His elder sister Lindsey stayed behind to study for her Newts, so he decided to stay as well. He's been rubbing it in that he's gotten more Es in potions, the git," Lisa explains matter 'o factly. She's a bit of a gossip, now that I think about it, but my best friend since first grade was too, so I doubt it's a terrible trait. Briana was a bit nosy though, figure she had to be to tug my head out of the clouds.

"I've never heard him talk about an older sister." Lisa is quick to shrug at that, shifting her legs and tapping her heels on the arm of the couch. "You're usually reading at meals, and you're not very good at listening when you are. Want to go to the library? I heard that Megan Jones from Hufflepuff wanted to do some sort of study group. She's bollocks at Astronomy and the exam is giving her anxiety."

"I hope we're bringing Morag and Su then, they're much better at it than us."

 **-linebreak-**

"All I'm saying is that the likelihood of you getting a better grade is… less," Terry says with a grin, clearly teasing. Lisa grabs one of her rolled up notes and smacks him upside the head with it.

"Why do there have to be so many stars?" Megan Jones says, staring forlornly at the chart Su Li is trying to make her memorize.

"You don't have to know them all, just enough to get an E. You can do it!" Su says with a smile. She apparently doesn't understand how this only makes Jones more worried, because Ravenclaw isn't very good at getting less than Es. With the major exception of Potions, thanks to Professor Snape's notoriously harsh grading, and lesserly Transfiguration.

"Just look at them hard," Morag adds on the girl's other side, just as confused by her lack of understanding. Morag might have photographic memory. Noted.

"Ah, how about you make a song for them, Megan?" Susan Bones butts in from beside Su Li.

I slouch in my chair, leaning my head back to rest on the back of it. The stone ceiling stares back at me while I let the conversation around me wash over me.

I forgot when Princess Bride came out. It wasn't the nineties… late eighties? Maybe I can catch a rerun next summer or find a vhs.

"Alana?"

I blink and quickly look back down, seeing Lisa staring at me expectantly.

"Uh, wot?"

"We're in need of your potions expertise on Snape's essay. Mind sharing your notes?" She asks, and half the table is looking at me.

"Yes? My handwriting is a challenge though, just a warning." I rustle through my bag and pluck the notes out of some binder shoved towards the bottom. I hand the binder over to her and she says a quick thank you. Then she flips through it as carefully as an eleven year old can be looking for whatever.

I shrug and cozy back up in my chair, unconcerned for my notes. I'm ass at studying, High School and college proved that much. If those scribbles help someone else then good for them, I'm just glad to have some good company.

And a warm place to nap. That too.

"This looks like chicken scratch," Terry states. Lisa only huffs. "Don't worry, I can decipher it. She includes the important stuff and cuts out the rest, it's good. If you can read it, at least."

"I'm wounded, I'll never heal from such slander," I mumble from my should be uncomfortable position. My knees are up against the table and the chair is much more comfy than it should be.

"It's not slander if it's true, Howard," Rodger says from the other side of the table. I peer over at the redhead and see he's still got his head stuck in a book. Dunno what it's about, but it's different from yesterday's.

"Turned on by my own house. Oh fair Hufflepuffs, save me," I say sarcastically, looking over at the other half of the study group.

"I suppose we could, but you'll have to change robes. Plenty of yellow to go around," Susan Bones says with a grin. I sigh.

"Sorrows of sorrows. I'm afraid I only look good in blue and green. I'll perish, then. Someone take care of my owl." I close my eyes and yawn, stretching my arms far above my head. "First a nap though. Perishing takes rest."

Never thought I'd make friends with a bunch of preteens when I'm not teaching them. Friends are friends though. Guess I'll have to figure out a way to save their butts too.

A nap though, that I can do.


	10. The Guitar and Snow

**_Prompt- Instrument_**

 ** _Maelaeran_ : Preteens. They bring out the oddest things in us. Glad that Lana ain't too edgy. **

**Woah look, another update. Am I avoiding finishing my other stuff with this? ... no.**

 **Enjoy the chapter.**

 **Chapter Question: _What's your Hogwarts house?_**

A Hufflepuff fourth year by the name of Julianne Hough owns a guitar. How do I know this?

She's got it on her lap and she's strumming it the first breakfast of winter break.

I. Must play. I haven't touched my own since I came here and I would very much like to play a song.

"She's good, isn't she? I wish I knew how to play the guitar, you can't really carry a piano around," Lisa sighs next to me, leaning her head against the palm of her hand.

"I know how to play." She whips her head around to peer at me, eyes widened and a suspicious look growing on her face.

"Well that's wonderful!" Lisa grabs me by the arm and tugs me towards the Hufflepuff table, to Hough, with a mischievous look on her face. Should I resist?

At this point I don't care. Might as well roll with it.

"Hough! Do you mind if Alana plays a little? She hasn't played since before the school year started and she's a bit sad about it." Lisa easily manipulates the fourth year? With a properly innocent face that screams empathy for my woe?

One could wonder how she ended up in Ravenclaw, but I suppose she likes wit more than ambition. Cool.

"Oh? Well of course I'll help out a homesick firstie." Hough hands the obviously well loved acoustic guitar to me, all with a big smile. "Try not to break it, my repairo is a bit shoddy on the best of days."

"Ah, don't worry, I'm not prone to dropping things," I explain, sitting down facing outward at Hufflepuff's table. These fingers don't have the callous I used to have, just the stupidly soft skin I had to try hard to lose. I'll just pray for now, then come summertime I'll have to build them up again.

I take a testing strum of the strings, before tuning them a little. Really hope Hough doesn't mind that.

How about… Sweden? The Minecraft song?

Fuck man. No Minecraft till I'm in my thirties, that sucks.

Alright, let's see if I remember this right. Haven't played it in a while.

I don't know how to articulate what it sounds like or what's going on while I play to be honest. I just do it, and when I look up and have finished Lisa, Hough and the fourth year's friends are politely clapping.

"That was nice, firstie. Very calming," Hough says. "Did you come up with it yourself? I've never heard that before."

"Ah, no. Just heard it around and recreated it to my best ability," I respond, attempting to avoid any troubles with Mojang when Minecraft gets popular. Or something. It just feels wrong to take credit for Sweden, alright? I don't even know if it was made just for Minecraft.

"I think that you're great, and you're just being modest. Play another one, Alana!" Lisa says with a grin. She's sat down next to me now.

More Minecraft? Nah. Maybe some… Skyrim?

Oh shit. The Hogwarts theme. I'm an idiot.

"Figure I can whip something up. Listen to this one."

I need to bring a guitar back with me next year. I've practically got most of the themes memorized and it would be an extreme misjudgment to not use them.

I play the first few chords of Hedwig's Theme, and grin.

 **-linebreak-**

Terry Boot getting pelted with snowballs is more satisfying than it should be. Lisa manically grin only furthers my enjoyment, along with his indignant squawking.

"This is the best spell I've ever learned," Lisa informs me. She's standing with her arms crossed as Terry tries to recover from the onslaught and Rodger starts preparing their own ammo.

"Seems like it. I say we start building some defenses though, before we get hit," I comment. Lisa nods seriously and we start quickly building a wall in front of us.

"Oh, Lisa Turpin I'm going to get you back for that! And after that you're teaching me that spell!" Terry shouts, tossing a snowball over our heads. Lisa laughs. "Oh? Beat me first, Terry Boot!"

Lisa pauses her building for only a moment to nail Terry in the face with a snowball. It pulls a snort out of an amused looking Rodger.

Snowballs start coming from both Lisa and Terry while Rodger and I are left building our respective forts. I'm hit with a stray ball on the shoulder at some point, and I think Lisa's head is more snow than hair, but I like to think we're winning.

"What's this?"

"A few firsties-"

"-fighting without us?"

Weasleys.

Two redheads appear on the opposing team's side, tossing snowball after snowball at us suddenly. Lisa squeaks and drops behind our wall.

"We need reinforcements," Lisa hisses into my ear as countless snowballs sail over our head.

"No kidding." I peer around and spot a few upper years mulling about behind us. Slytherins. Is that Erl?

Eh. Yolo.

"Hey! A little help over here!" I shout to them and Lisa makes a wounded noise beside me. Erl and his friend's heads snap over to us, and his head tilts that pay he seems prone to.

Someone says something that I can't here, but Erl only shrugs and starts walking over.

"My my, do I spot some eagles in need? I'll never pass up a chance to beat a few Gryffindor," he says with a smile, and I'm suddenly reminded that I'm not really eleven. And that he's only around fourteen and wouldn't see a reason not to join in on a snowball fight.

Huh.

His friends follow with eye rolls and the like, but suddenly our walls are growing and I'm being introduced to the snakes.

"Adrian Pucey," one of them says in greeting, before making a snowball and presumably smacking one of the twins in the face with it. That's based on the grunt from one of them.

"Bah."

"No fair. If you're calling reinforcements guess we'll need some too."

The twins can be heard from the other side of the wall. "Oi!" Is called out and presumably more Gryffindor's join Terry's side from the insults I'm hearing.

Why is it all the other houses seem to get pulled into this rivalry?

"Well, come on eagle, we'll need bigger walls to handle these ones," Erl says on my left, and I catch a hint. I start building a bigger and longer wall, the Slytherin and Lisa make and throw snowballs (and insults) and Erl sort of delegates. He seems happy doing just that though so I won't complain.

"Your throwing arm is lacking, Towler!" One of the Slytherin, Jakob Reiner, throws at the other side.

"At least I can throw, Reiner. Where are you aiming, the tree?" Is called back.

Once the wall is settled I peer over it and make a snowball, timing the throw just right…

A Weasley twin gets a face full of snow. It's glorious. The look he gives me of mild annoyance and humor pulls a grin to my own face.

In the end there isn't any sort of winner, just tired out teens and preteens grumbling at each other half heartedly. Lisa teaches Terry the spell anyways.


	11. Weasleys

**_Prompt- Collar_**

 ** _Darkness is complete:_ So the spell is basically a flinging spell. It takes more than one lightweight object and throws them at a target until the objects can't be flung anymore. Kids at Hogwarts use it for snowballs when it could be very dangerous in certain circumstances. **

**_AddictionProblems21_ : tHANK YOU!**

 ** _Guest_ : Cause I think it's neat.**

 **Yeet. Apparently I'm so good at updating that it takes me thirteen days to update. WHOOP. Good news, next chapter WILL come out tomorrow. Had to do big plan for next chapter's prompt to work. Thanks for following and favoriting, thanks for reviewing. Enjoy?**

 _Coughing. Breathing in but choking because that isn't air, it's all water._

 _This isn't my world. If this sick fuck thinks they can keep me here they have another one coming._

 _It hurts, oh god it hurts why did I do this I just want to go home—_

I fell asleep with my tie on, and the collar got too tight. My bad.

I shakily untie my tie and toss it onto the floor. I'm breathing too loud. I'm going to wake someone up.

I breathe deeply even though I don't need to anymore. I take gulps of air and shove my wet face in my hands. It's over now, it was just my collar. I'm not drowning and I can breathe.

I wish I knew who did this as much as I wish I was able to die. I wish I could ask them why, and be able to go home.

Home wasn't the best, but it was home. I had a good job and was paid a shit ton of money, I had a niece on the way thanks to my best friend and her Highschool sweetheart, and I was able to at least fuck around on my phone when I was bored.

I snap my fingers and will the candle on my nightstand to light. It does, because fuck you wands, I know it should work and be easy. Magic is magic. I throw off my covers and grab my potions textbook.

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ , by Arsenius Jigger. It's an introductory book on potion making and was clearly intended to be used by first years. Easy wording gives it away, but it's not dry reading. It's definitely better than laying in bed staring at the ceiling.

I pull out a pencil and my composition notebook I use for most of my personal potions notes. Because fuck parchment, I tried it half the year and keeping so much loose paper around kills me.

Potions is not a hard class if you're good at cooking.

You follow the steps and get the product. Very simple and straightforward, with none of the stupid memorization I had to do for chemistry.

Obviously optimizing potions takes more self experimentation, that much was discovered in half-blood prince, and I'm wary to risk blowing myself up, but it still requires less thinking than the stuff Professor McGonagal is trying to make me remember.

So, I don't mind taking notes for it in the middle of the night.

"Uh, _Tempus_?"

4:32 AM.

Yeah. Early morning, not middle of the night.

I skim through the book, writing down ingredients and the barebones explanation for what they do by themselves. The names they go by are also useful if I find myself on the receiving end of one of Professor Snape's moods.

I fill up fifteen full pages of notes and drink three Dr. Pepper's before sunlight starts coming through the window.

Lisa stirs in her bed, and peers over at me blearily.

"Gimme a coke," She mumbles, making grabby motions with her hands that just poke out of her covers.

I huff a laugh before doing so, watching her squawk when she accidentally spills some on her.

"How long've you been up, Lana?" Lisa asks after she pats herself down with a washcloth from the bathroom.

I shrug. "Around four. I wanted an extra early start on some potions work, as you can see." I gesture towards the open notebook, pencil, and sad looking cans.

I also blow out my candle. Definitely don't need that burning endlessly.

Lisa makes an appropriately childish look of disgust at that.

"Gross. Really gross. I'm gonna go have breakfast now and pretend that you didn't do that," Lisa informs me, grabbing her clothes and beginning to dress. I roll my eyes and begin to clean up my things.

Classes start back up in a week. Here's to hoping things don't get spicy.

* * *

Things get spicy.

"My my-"

"-seems a lil' Ravenclaw is all by her lonesome."

 _Weasleys._

Weasleys with shit eating grins that look like they're up to something.

"Morning," I state, frowning at them.

"See, Howard-"

"-we need a distraction. Filch has a certain thing of ours-"

"-and _you_ are perfect."

Definitely isn't the Marauder's Map, they jacked that first year. Probably some sort of pranking object.

"Uh huh. Well, I have studying to do so-" I'm cut off by a Weasley starting to lead me in the opposite direction of the Library.

"Don't worry, Howard! This definitely won't take long."

"Less than long. Very short."

You know what? I have absolutely nothing better to do today. Might as well.

I make a point of looking like I'm suffering as I'm dragged along, but I don't resist in any other way.

"So what am I doing?" I ask the two 'older' boys, watching them never lose those looks.

"Filchy needs to think we're reeking havoc elsewhere," The one with two small freckles on his neck says. The one without nods contently in agreeance. "Preferably in the direction of the Great Hall, firstie."

I nod. "Gotcha. What exactly are you 'retrieving' since I'm risking my butt for it?" I ask the redheads.

"Let's just say-"

"Dung bombs have been taken from their rightful owners," the one without freckles finishes.

Ugh. Those things reek for weeks, am I willing to help them do that?

Yes. Yes I am, as long as they don't throw them at Slytherin first years.

We suddenly stop and I'm quickly turned to face them.

"We'll retrieve you once our quest is done, lil' Ravenclaw," Freckles says.

"Godspeed," the other states gravely, before I'm shoved around the corner and faced with Filch coming this way.

Aight then.

"Mr. Filch!" I call towards the man, looking as frazzled as I can. The elderly man quickly faces me tensely, before seeing my crest and relaxing a little. Guess Eagles don't bother him much.

"The Weasley twins are turning everything in the great hall Gryffindor colors! I only just missed the spell," I inform him, and he sneers.

Okay this makes me feel kind of bad but I can't stop now.

" _Troublemakers_ ," The man practically growls before quickly hurrying past me, towards the great hall.

Well. That was easy.

I stand for a moment, then the twins appear out of a door a little down the hall with a bag.

"Nicely done."

"Better leave though, Flichy will be on the hunt for you once he realizes you lied."

I'm dragged along again, but this time through a tapestry and through a secret corridor.

"How's about we take you to Hogsmead?"

I have a feeling they wouldn't stop if I didn't wanna go. Guess I'm good as long as they're paying.


End file.
